Someone Who Cares
by LuckyLadybug
Summary: Follow-up to It Happened on Maple Street. Yami Bakura deals with the aftereffects of Bakura having been tricked into getting drunk at a school party.


**Yu-Gi-Oh!**

 **Someone Who Cares**

 **By Lucky_Ladybug**

 **Notes: The characters are not mine and the story is! This is post-series, in my** _ **Pendulum Swings**_ **verse, taking place immediately following my oneshot** _ **It Happened on Maple Street.**_ **Explanations of that story are told here. This is just a cute hurt/comforty bit to follow up.**

Yami Bakura frowned as he stood in the upstairs hall and watched as Bakura half-staggered, half-limped to the bathroom as quickly as he could go and tightly shut the door. Last night some of his classmates had tricked him into getting drunk with spiked fruit punch, and today he was paying for it.

Yami Bakura growled. He had made those idiots pay when he had discovered their cruelty. They were all suffering magically-induced hangovers courtesy of him, as well as the sensation of falling over and over. Bakura had fallen out a window while drunk and had only been saved because Yami Bakura had been right there. His schoolmates had been watching, but they hadn't even tried to save him. As far as Yami Bakura was concerned, his punishment had been too good for them. It wasn't permanent; it would last until they regretted hurting such an innocent soul. Of course, from what Yami Bakura had seen of them, maybe they never would regret it.

He waited in the hall, knowing Bakura desperately wanted privacy yet also knowing this was something strange and new to him and he likely wanted comfort as well. It hadn't been his first trip to the bathroom that morning.

Indeed, soon Bakura washed up at the sink and slowly opened the door, his eyes bloodshot and filled with pain. "Yami . . ."

Yami Bakura went over to him. "Are you feeling any better at all?" he asked gruffly.

Bakura held a hand to his head. "It hurts. . . . I feel so ill. . . ." He looked up sorrowfully at his ancestor. "Why did they do this to me? Why does everyone always take advantage of my kindness?!"

"Because they're jealous," Yami Bakura said. "Or they think you're a pushover."

Bakura stumbled and fell forward, reaching to grab Yami Bakura's robe. "Oh . . . !"

Yami Bakura caught him and held him close. "They're paying for what they did." He growled, his eyes narrowed. "I would have liked to have done more."

"You did plenty, Yami." Bakura looked up at him with a weak smile. "I'm sure they won't forget this experience any more than I will."

"Good." Yami Bakura studied him. "Is there anything you want?"

"I know I don't want any more of your hangover remedies," Bakura said, making a face. "That tasted horrible!"

"Yes, and I doubt it helped you any either," Yami Bakura grunted. "You probably emptied your stomach of all of it and then some!"

Bakura went red. "Yami . . ."

"It's the truth," Yami Bakura shrugged, "and I see no reason why we can't be frank with each other. You're far too worried about always being proper."

"Unless I'm drunk out of my mind." Bakura closed his eyes, hating the fuzzy memories of stripping to his boxers and swinging out a window.

Yami Bakura hated it too. "Nevermind," he grunted. "You're better off being your normal self." He paused, then lifted the shocked boy into his arms. "I'm going to put you to bed."

Bakura didn't protest. Bed sounded good.

"I feel like a child," he said as the old thief laid him on the soft mattress and pillows. "I used to lie in bed when I was ill and Father or Mother stayed by my side. They would talk to me and stroke my hair and just all around be very comforting. I hated being ill, but I did love their attention."

"Well, no one's here now but me." Yami Bakura sat down on the edge of the bed.

Bakura looked at him through bleary eyes. "Really, Yami? You'll stay?"

"It's not like I have anything else to do except play Doom," Yami Bakura grunted. He folded his arms.

Bakura smiled. His friend might not want to admit that he was staying because he cared, but Bakura knew he did. He closed his eyes, just laying for a moment in silence and basking in the wonderful feelings. He felt completely safe and loved, just as he had when his parents had been the ones looking after him. He had longed for that so often from the mysterious spirit in his Millennium Ring, but had thought it would never happen. Yet ever since Yami Bakura had been given the Infinity Ring to sustain a mortal form and try to earn a real second chance at life, they had been growing closer.

"Yami . . . did you ever get drunk?" he asked suddenly.

Yami Bakura started. "What?"

"Well, I mean . . ." Bakura blushed. "You had that hangover concoction and I just wondered . . ."

"If I ever used it on myself? No." Yami Bakura leaned back. "I was always able to hold my liquor quite well. But I couldn't say the same of some of my underlings."

"Oh. So you made the remedy for them," Bakura deduced.

"Yes. Although I didn't sit up with them."

Bakura smiled a bit. Then, making a face, he said, "Father said that people drank beer in ancient Egypt because the Nile was so filthy it couldn't be drunk. That always sounded horrible to me."

"I doubt you could have stomached the beverage selection," Yami Bakura agreed. "Although we did have well water, but transporting it was a long process and many people didn't want to bother. And we had milk."

"That's something, then," Bakura said. "I don't imagine it tasted anything like milk does here, though. . . ."

"It was never ice-cold, of course," Yami Bakura agreed. "And it had to be consumed fairly soon after being taken from the animals."

Bakura opened his eyes. "Do you like the taste of alcohol?"

A shrug. "I suppose you could say I learned to like beer, since it was so readily available. I liked wine better." With a smirk, he toasted Bakura with an imaginary goblet. "It was only for the highest classes except during festivals, but I managed to procure some at times."

Bakura chuckled. "I'm not surprised."

"And that was fitting, really; after all, I became royalty of a sort," Yami Bakura said. "Why shouldn't the King of Thieves drink the traditional beverage of the Pharaoh's court?"

"You would definitely think you should," Bakura laughed, playfully swatting at Yami Bakura's imaginary goblet with his hand.

Yami Bakura jerked it out of Bakura's reach. "Come to think of it, I haven't ever tried modern alcohol."

"I'm just as glad for that," Bakura shuddered. "Especially since you could have used my body to do it!"

"I could always tell you didn't seem the type that could handle it," Yami Bakura said.

Bakura shuddered. "I'm sure my classmates could tell too," he said, unable to keep the bitterness and hurt out of his voice. "They did this to me deliberately because they knew it would be hard for me to handle its effects!"

Yami Bakura growled. It was certainly what he believed too.

"Yami . . . now that you have your own body, are you going to try drinking alcohol?" Bakura had to ask. His eyes flickered with worry. "It's so damaging to the body over time, even if you can handle it fine at first."

"Eh." Yami Bakura shrugged again. "You know, I actually hadn't thought about it? Whether or not to drink hasn't been high on my list of priorities. Although I'm not crazy about what modern research has to say about it. Supposing I do earn my second chance, I intend to live a good, long life. There's plenty of things that can shorten one's life as it is without deliberately adding more."

Bakura smiled. "I'm glad to hear that. I'd rather you didn't drink."

"Anyway . . ." Yami Bakura smirked. "I like chocolate milk better than I ever liked beer or wine. Chocolate milk is truly the beverage of the gods."

Bakura had to laugh. Yes, that was certainly the thief's favorite drink. Bakura had learned to buy him his own jugs of it because he was fond of drinking out of the bottle and claiming it his.

"I wonder when I'll feel like having any," Bakura said, somewhat wistfully.

"You may be out of commission most of the day," Yami Bakura said. "Hangovers can last up to 24 hours."

"Oh my," Bakura moaned.

"And possibly longer, since your body can't tolerate alcohol much at all. I already called the school to say you were out sick today."

"Thank you." Worry flickered in Bakura's eyes. "I hope untrue rumors won't get strung around about last night. . . ."

"Oh, they probably will," Yami Bakura said in annoyance. "But if I hear any of them, I will refute them. I hope you will too, instead of just taking it."

"In a situation like this, I'm sure I wouldn't just take it," Bakura said. "I'm tired of being everyone's doormat. And I am honestly angry about what was done to me. They had no right!"

"No, they didn't," Yami Bakura said, pleased by the boy's words.

"Well, one thing's for sure," Bakura said. "I'll be more careful when agreeing to do things for my classmates, especially if I'm not particularly close to them. I knew I didn't want to go to that party last night. I only let myself be convinced because Amy was so persuasive in insisting they wanted me there."

"And that angers me the most," Yami Bakura growled.

"But at least, thanks to you, Yami, I'll be alright," Bakura smiled. "You knew something was wrong when I didn't answer the phone for so long and you went looking for me. And you found me just in time."

Yami Bakura had to agree. He didn't want to think about how badly Bakura could have been hurt if he hadn't come.

"And now . . ." Bakura snuggled into the pillow. "I'm feeling a little sleepy. I wonder if I'll feel any better when I wake up again. . . ."

"You'd better," Yami Bakura said. "You should definitely sleep. It will help your body heal."

"You'll be here while I rest," Bakura said. "Won't you, Yami?"

"Just sleep," Yami Bakura said gruffly. "You'll be fine."

Bakura smiled.

When he dozed, Yami Bakura kept sitting there, gazing at the boy who had saved him so many times and in so many ways. Bakura was still suffering from what his classmates had done, yet he looked at peace now. He knew everything would be alright.

 _Yes, Bakura,_ Yami Bakura thought to himself. _I'll be here._

He hesitated, then slowly reached out and stroked Bakura's bangs. A simple gesture, but one he hadn't made for millennia, not since his younger sister Amunet had lived. It was a gesture that Bakura had already admitted he liked. He had always found and brought out the human side of this once-tortured soul.

"Yami," Bakura whispered, snuggling deeper into the pillow with a smile.

Well, so Bakura knew, even in his sleep. But that was fine. Yami Bakura had his pride, but he found he didn't mind if Bakura knew.

The boy had long ago seen his heart anyway.


End file.
